Connecticut western news., 1887-02-16

cured my Jeremiah of thinking that he could cook jest as his mother did easy enough. Says l, at the breakfast table one morning:
 Jeremiah, I billed my meat yesterday, and if you'll bring in that jug of cider molasses that you put into the ice-house to keep cool through the summer, I'll make up my mince ples to-day"
 A simple remark enough, and inno- cent, but who can tell what word may bring forth!
 'I wish," says the partner of my joys, and (when he can't dodge them) of my sorrows. 'I wish could taste of some of my mothers pies again. Them was pies as was pies."
 Now, I know that if Philura Jane Jones can do one thing better than an other, it is to make mince pie, but kept calm outwardly.
 'How was they made2" says l, "what was the ingregiencesa"
 t'Wall," says he, 'I used to watch her, am if you'd hear to me, I believe I could tell you jest how. Hi! wasn't they good, though2 I yum, believe could make lem myself"
 'Perhaps you'd better," says I coolly.
 'T can," says he, "an' declare for all tryin' to boss woman round, T will" couldn't help but laugh to see him go to work. I got him my big check apron, and tied it on. brought out the flour, and the lard, and the saleratus, and the salt, and the spice drawer, and the sugar-box. Jeremiahs he went out and got the cider molasses. Tho meat nd apples was already on the old table.
 'There," says Jeremiah, "Now Pn show you something about pies." I said nothing, but went to washing up the breakfast dishes and sweeping up.
 "1 don't get to baking so early as this, generally" says I. "You've got a good start"
 70, yes," he answered in his gayest tone, "t'won't be no time afore I have them pies all settin' in row on the buttery shelf. Haint you got no sour milk2"
 ''Why, yes," says l, "but you don't want it for mince pies"
 "Who's maxim these pies" says he. 'My mother always used to make sour milk pie-crust, and believe it would taste good once more."
 So l brought the sour milk. He dipped out about two quarts of it in my big yellow mixing dish.
 "Where's the short'nin'?" says he.
 '"There's the lard, and there's the but ter here if you'd rather have it."
 ''My mother used lard," says he. 'Where's a dish to melt it in 2"
 l got him dish.
 'Most folks rub their shortening into the four," says I.
 'My mother didn't" says he. GAS said before, who's maxim these pies2 | you are, I'll go out and mend the fence. If ann;
 'T won't say another word," says | I've had some experience in managing opinionated pardner before."
 He stirred his melted lard into his sour milk, and it rose to the top in lit tie Jumps. Then he began to stir il flour. see he hadn't put in any salera tus, but knew him too we'll to venture tt say SO. Jeremiah Jones sometimes need to attend the school kept by experience
 He stirred and stirred and stirred When he finally got it thick enougl there was batter enough, such as it wa. to make several dozen pies.
 "These pies are goin' to be so good, says he, "we'l make up lot of lem Where's the pie plates2"
 l brought them to him all buttered and he begun to roll out his crust. B this time it was so thick that it coult scarcely be induced to roll out at all, bu he worked nobly. When he got his frs . piece rolled down to about an inch i | thickness, he stopped and looked at it. 'tI like a good thick crust, myself says he. "An inch thick ain't too muc for real juicy inside." "No," l answered, comforting mysel with the thought that his crust wouldn' rise up to call him blessed, the way mos sour milk crusts do. By the time had rolled out four under crusts, an . used perhaps one-eighth of his batte, hA laid down his rollina- nin-